


favonius quercus

by theclockworks



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Short, Vague, Vignette, dream-esque writing, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclockworks/pseuds/theclockworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'They seemed careful- you seem careful to me. Deliberate too- almost like you plan everything.' </p><p>Oliver, Len, a vague setting, and butterflies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	favonius quercus

'They're like little versions of the sky- or the atmosphere on Uranus.'

You look up, bemused, from the book and it's list of descriptions and diagrams to the boy ahead of you. Pastel grass is plush underneath you, a neatly trimmed bush beside you- cloudy sunlight shifting through its leaves. Translucent insects, wings of gossamer silk woven onto their backs, flutter about in the blurry summer musk; the thin scent of flowers drifting along the breeze. some flickering about the other beside you. You don't smile, merely let on interest as you hold up a hand for a butterfly to land on. One does, brushing against you fingers in its landing. It rubs its legs together, and you watch for a while.

'I guess,' you say, hesitant.

'Or Neptune.'

You glance upwards to the boy, and the sunlight catches him- he seems a bit too golden in that moment for his own good. His eyes shine too brightly and his smile is too wide. There are feathers for his hair and the fuzzy blur shrouding his figure moves back and forth in the heat's haze. But it's fine- in this moment it's alright; looking human doesn't seem to suit him now.

'You seem to have a thing for comparing stuff to things in space.'

'I've always liked astronomy.'

The insect on your finger drifts towards the other's hand, settling nicely in his open palm. The boy watches it, wide smile growing softer. It floats up in the silence, buoyancy seemingly letting it blow higher. A gentle wind carries it along, over the bush. Others follow- all that's left is the heavy air and pastel plants.

You flip the pages of his book, then and again giving a glance to the person ahead.

(he keeps smiling)

The diagram pops out to you, it lifts off the page- you give one last look- and bookmark the section with a bend in the parchment and close the covers slowly, letting it rest in your lap.

'They reminded me of you, a little bit.'

'How,' you're not offended, maybe surprised, and you pause, swallowing dryly and pushing your blond hair out of your face, 'How so?'

'They seemed careful- you seem careful to me. Deliberate too- almost like you plan everything,' he stops, looking down, still smiling-

'You see me like that? Really?'

'Is that bad?'

'...No.'

He's not smiling anymore.

Silence hangs in the air again, not as comfortable without the insects as distractions. The summer heat feels oppressive now, a noose around your neck, an executioner at your door. You shift again, and again; tanned fingers fidgeting and digging deep into the grass, threatening to pull chunks out. Your toes curl in your shoes, twisting and interlocking with each other. But when you looks up the other is still- a porcelain doll that stares off, pale against the background of blue sky and lush plants. His fingers are still, bare feet languid against the ground; one tightly fastened in a bandage. His knees are locked together, his shorts revealing another wrapping, white dirtied by a layer of mud.

He moves suddenly, struggling to get up- his foot shaking under his weight, his knee jerking to the side as if it didn't quite want to hold him. His trembling arms doing most of the work. It seems he won't be able to stand until he hauls himself up with a push, snapping into a standing position. You don't make a move to help him, instead, you stare, lips curling downwards. He looks down, staring down at you on the ground.

'It is, isn't it?'

'No- just...interesting,' you shift again, your tone wavering and gritting against your teeth.

'You don't have to lie- I'd prefer it if you told the truth.'

He limps off without another word, you blink and he's gone- fading haze left in place where he was. Another pause, you don't move much more- for once you stay still. You look down at the book, digits wrapping around its thick spine. You flip open to the folded page.

_Favonius quercus, huh..._

**Author's Note:**

> this was kind of a test for oliver and len's character interactions?? or at least how i feel like i'd write them together in future stories. maybe??
> 
> inspired by 壱村 皐月's pixiv illustration.


End file.
